Father Knows Best
by SilentSpeaker13
Summary: Gerald decides it's time to have a talk with Kyle: implied slash, adult themes, hopefully funny too.  Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

**AN: For the record, I have absolutely no idea where this story came from, but when I thought about it it struck me as being really funny and I decided to write it instead of revising my class work like I was supposed to. So, basically, I hope you guys find this funny instead of just really, really, stupid. Enjoy!**

**P.S. Obviously I don't own SP or its characters, otherwise I wouldn't be doing this.**

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><p>Gerald Broflovski and Stuart McCormick watched both of their sons as they grew and came closer and closer to adulthood. Both fathers watched as their sons became young men, graduated from each grade, hung out with their friends, and most importantly, the way their sons interacted with one another, the light-hearted masculine playfulness between them. It was this that prompted a brief reconciliation between Gerald Broflovski and Stuart McCormick.<p>

"Broflovski residence, hello?"

"Gerald, it's Stuart. We need to talk to our boys."

"Agreed."

Both phones were hung up without another word and Gerald sighed as he waited for his son to return from his latest outing with his three closest friends. He had waited for this day for a long time, since the day his son had become friends with the McCormick boy. He had hoped it wouldn't come to this, but he knew very well how inevitable this all was.

The day after Gerald Broflovski had his brief conversation with his once friend he made his way up the stairs to his son's room, taking a deep breath before he stepped through the open doorway.

"Kyle, we need to have a talk."

Kyle looked up from his computer and asked his dad a little pleadingly, "Dad I know Mom wanted me to study for the SATs until three today, but can't I just go now? It's Saturday and I already went through half of the book she gave me and I promised the guys I'd meet them at Stark's Pond at one. I have all my chores and everything else done already too."

"Kyle, it's not about that," Gerald said as he closed the door behind him and sat down on the edge of his son's bed, next to the desk Kyle was sitting at, "we need to have a serious conversation about something. Man to man, while you're mother isn't home."

Kyle groaned in response. "Dad I'm not drinking, doing drugs, skipping school, tagging buildings, beating up Ike, or having sex," the teenager listed off the frequent, and irrational, worries that his parents had tried to talk to him about, blushing in discomfort at the end.

"Now Kyle, I know you say that now, but you're a growing young man and you're going to have certain…urges that I think we need to talk about now before you get yourself into any kind of trouble." Gerald reasoned as he watched his son with stern and serious eyes.

"Oh god Dad, please don't talk to me about STDs and protection. Not again." Kyle shuddered at the memory of last year, when the force of nature that was Sheila Broflovski had marched into his room unannounced and proceeded to, without hesitation or preamble, go over every detail of sexually transmitted diseases, contraception, and the need for intimacy, either unaware or ignoring the obvious and extreme discomfort her sixteen year old son was vocalizing through gagging protests.

Gerald looked at his son sympathetically, but resolutely. "Now Kyle, we need to have this talk. I'm concerned for you and I don't want you to make the same mistakes I did. Now, you and Kenny McCormick have been friends for quite some time."

At first Kyle rolled his eyes. Of course, that's why his dad wanted to have this talk with him, so that Kyle wouldn't repeat the mistakes of his father. His dad apparently had little faith that Kyle wouldn't act as stupidly as his he had, just like it had been with the cat pee addiction, that thing about not driving over three times the speed limit with your eyes closed on a dare, and a million other stupid little tid-bits of advice Kyle had never really felt the need to know. When Kyle heard his friend's name, however, his ears perked up in interest and confusion. This was certainly not what he had expected to hear.

"Uh, yeah," Kyle said bemusedly, "Look Dad, if this is about those rumors about Kenny I think a lot of them are false. Actually I think Kenny probably makes up some of them himself. I mean I don't think a number that high is actually possible."

"No, Kyle this isn't about that," Gerald said after a shocked pause, "This is about the curse of the McCormick charm."

"The what?" Kyle asked incredulously, eyebrow raised in disbelief.

"The McCormick charm. It's a curse that's haunted our family as long as I can remember. From your great-grandparents to your grandparents to me and now to you."

Oh god, Kyle thought, was this how Stan's dad sounded before he went off on some dumb-ass tear about something?

"Okay. The curse of the McCormick charm…So, what the hell are you talking about Dad?"

"Look Kyle, this is something that has plagued every Broflovski by birth since the first time a Broflovski met a McCormick. Ike is safe, but you're not, especially since you're such close friends with a McCormick already. McCormicks know how to charm, it's something they inherit just like hair color, they instinctively know just how to get you. You're a young man now and it's only a matter of time before you're charmed into, well…bed…with a McCormick, such is the curse."

Kyle stared at his father, his jaw opening and closing like a fish as he tried to find something, anything, to say. He tried to think through what his father had just told him; actually he tried to reason out what his father just told him without thinking about the horrible details implied in his explanation. Okay, he reasoned, this had to be wrong. After all, he barely knew Karen McCormick and she was way too young, so this had to be wrong. The only other option, Kyle wanted to avoid thinking about completely.

"Kyle," Gerald said with a sigh as he stared hard into his son's eyes, "what I'm trying to say is this. Always make sure he uses a condom."

If Kyle's fish face had looked shocked and horrified before he now looked like he was about to stroke out from his shock and horror; he tried to regain some normalcy as he tried to block out the disgusting idea of his and Kenny's dads having sex, apparently sans condom, and avoid the notion of he and Kenny having sex, which was apparently his fate. He took a second to try to calmly and rationally respond to the ludicrous idea his father had spouted, but he was his mother's son and he failed…completely.

"What!" Kyle shouted, his voice as loud and piercing as his scarlet face was red.

Having said his piece, Gerald Broflovski stood up, clasped a fatherly hand on his son's shoulder and said one last time, "It happens to all of us son. Just remember, always use a condom."

And without further ado Kyle's dad exited the room, the door left open behind him with a gaping Kyle in its wake. Shocked and feeling more than a little queasy Kyle stood up shakily from his computer desk and slowly made his way over to doorway. Passing his father in the living room and trying to fight off any combination of his father, Stuart McCormick, and sex he now hastily made his way out the front door and into the street.

The crisp mountain air hit his face and Kyle nodded to himself. Yes, yes, this was just what he needed, fresh air. A lot of fresh air. Possibly for weeks.

Drawing in deep breaths of mountain air he began to calm himself down as he wandered the sidewalks of South Park. After a few minutes he began to feel more like himself and he shook his head, smirking a little smugly.

Okay, so his dad was kind of a weirdo. He had known this already, since the whole "cheesing" incident when he was ten anyway. Just because his father had done those things didn't mean he would, he had never had any inclination to do anything like his father in the past, why would it start now? Smiling in triumph at his bulletproof logic Kyle held his head high as he walked on. At least he did until he saw a familiar person in a familiar parka standing in front of him.

"Hey Kyle," Kenny said as he approached his friend, one hand in his pocket and the other clutched around something small.

Kyle suddenly felt very, very uncomfortable again and Kenny's tone wasn't helping. He could swear he heard that confident slyness in the blond boy's voice, the kind of tone Kenny used when he knew something that gave the upper hand.

"H-hey Kenny," Kyle tried to reply as evenly as he could manage.

"Dude, are we still meeting Stan and Cartman at Stark's?"

Right, right, of course, Kyle felt relief course throughout his body. They were going to all meet up, no need to freak out. This was a Saturday like any other, everything was normal; his dad was just being a freak, nothing new there. Kyle smiled and was about to reply when he caught side of the edges poking through Kenny's closed fist.

He felt all the blood completely drain out of his face.

Without a word Kyle spun around on his heel and started off in the direction of the pond, suddenly very eager to be around someone whose father had not had sex with his own. Despite this, however, he heard Kenny's footsteps jog up behind him and felt the collision of a limb with his neck, Kenny's previously pocketed hand now hanging over his left shoulder as Kenny's arm draped across his neck. Kyle tried to fight off the flush creeping into his cheeks when Kenny pulled him in a little closer than usual as they marched down the street together, but he felt like he had just experienced the first symptom of a contagious and contracted disease. His mortified flush only deepened as fluttering sensation began in his gut when Kenny, with his face pressed cheek-to-cheek against Kyle's conspiratorially, opened his mouth and spoke slyly and huskily.

"So, Kyle…"

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><p><strong>AN: Hope you enjoyed and please review either way! All comments are appreciated because I can learn what I'm doing both right and wrong. Oh and if you guys liked itwanna read more maybe I'll do a Kenny and Stuart convo chapter.**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Oy, I've been writing this for several days now, it would've been done sooner, but I had a lttle bit of block. Anywho I really hope you guys enjoy this chapter and that it is as enjoyable as the previous one! Sorry not to do individual thanks for the moment, I'll try to get them done for the next chapter, but thank you so much to everyone who did review! I really appreciate it and it really encouraged me to write this chapter, which hopefully doesn't suck. But seriously, y'all are awesome for reviewing, it's so helpful and so appreciated! So as always, I'd appreciate any reviews you have for me! :) Also, there will be a short wrap-up chapter after this one, just a little quickie idea that came to me the other day! **

**Enjoy!**

**Oh, and I don't own South Park or its characters, damn you Trey Parker and Matt Stone!**

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><p>"Kenny! Get out here!" Then there was a pause. "Now!"<p>

Kenny rolled over and tucked his beloved Hustler under his mattress before swinging his legs over the side of his bed. He stood and stretched a little lazily, slowly persuading the blood in his veins to flow outward toward his limbs rather than downward, as it liked to do when he spent two hours looking at very trashy, very naked ladies…with very big tits.

Having reanimated his limbs Kenny shuffled over to his bedroom door, pulling tightly on the drawstrings of his hooded sweatshirt out of sheer habit. He pushed open the door and made his way through their small home in his worn and beaten socks.

The tightly drawn opening of his hood hid his grimace, feeling the griminess of the dirty carpet through the threadbare material and holes in his socks was bringing an unpleasant expression to his face. It was moments like this that made him wish his mom knew how to operate a vacuum cleaner, or a broom…or anything that involved soap and water. But of course, that would've probably meant she'd have to be sober. Actually, did they even have a vacuum cleaner? Or a broom?

The well-known feeling of the soiled carpet under his feet wasn't the only reason Kenny was grimacing though. If seventeen years of living with his parents had taught Kenny anything it was how to read his parents: their expressions, voices, drunken attempts at speech, vague gestures made after the six or seventh round of vodka chocolate milk. Kenny, like most children, had developed this skill in order to ensure that the moods of his parents affected his life as little as possible, to avoid any unnecessary conflict until he had left his childhood home for good.

Well, that and using these skills to seriously save his ass from completely justified parental wrath. All three were valid reasons really.

Out of the quad of friends that had followed him since preschool Kenny was obviously the most talented and honed in these skills and, despite the rolled eyes of Stan and Kyle, he considered these skills to be an art and a science. He knew he was pretty good at what he did. Hell, he was the fucking master at what he did. Modesty never really suited Kenny.

Though in some ways it really wasn't too surprising that Kenny was the best at avoiding the consequences of parental wrath, frankly his friends didn't do much to stop it. Well, Cartman usually avoided anger by weaseling and manipulating his neurotic nympho of a mom until she was calling him her "little poopsiekins" and Cartman, even at seventeen, faked tears to get out of the worst trouble. Kenny pretty much disregarded Cartman's techniques, because they were pretty fucking pussy. At least Stan and Kyle didn't use fucking tears on their parents, even if they were still pretty pussy for not doing anything to get out of it. Stan would just sit and wait in his room as he heard his parents thundering up the stairs, Randy mostly, on their mission to yell at and/or punish their youngest child. Kenny had seen Stan do this several times over the years and other than frequent rolling of the eyes the black haired boy pretty much took his punishment in silence.

Kyle was by far the most fun to watch, even though you had to pity the guy. Hearing Sheila Broflovski in a rage had convinced Kenny it was one of the signs of the Apocalypse: the house shook, he could swear he heard a harpy screaming his friend's name, and the whole world seemed to grow a little colder and darker. It was in these moments, anticipating the impending doom, that you could watch as Kyle's face paled to a shade Kenny didn't think was possible and the redhead's eyes went wide as his pupils constricted in fear. Stan and Kenny would offer their unending moral support when they saw what terror their friend would soon face. Stan would put his hand on Kyle's shoulder and say with complete seriousness, "Dude."

And then of course the two, or rarely three of them, would be forced out of the Broflovski household and into the street. The anger of Sheila Broflovski would echo off buildings several blocks away from Kyle's house. Kenny sympathized with his friends, sort of, but they were still pussies for not doing anything. So Kenny liked to puff out his chest a little and show off his skills. He was Kenny. He was amazing. He was the fucking master of his domain. He was also the only one of them whose bedroom was on the ground floor, but that was a minor detail.

Historically Kenny wasn't above throwing open his bedroom window and hastily pulling himself out before tearing ass into the woods or toward his friends' houses. This would happen when his thoughts became "Shit, fuck, fuck, fuck, shit, fuck" at the sound of his parents' rage.

That action, however, did have a fifty-fifty chance of carrying major consequences. Like being screamed at everyday for the next three weeks or his dad blockading his window like he was a dangerous convict instead of a miscreant teenage boy. There was also the possibility that his parents would get drunk or stoned and completely forget any anger from before, but it was really only worth the risk in death-con five situations, when a beckoning scream that sounded less like his name and more like an invocation of death came barreling down his door.

Kenny had briefly contemplated using this well worn disappearing act the moment he had heard his dad's voice. But, he thought, this was a death-con 1 situation, maybe death-con two, which meant his dad was either irritated or kind of drunk. It was pretty hard to tell the difference at times.

Having deemed the situation relatively harmless and swallowing his pride Kenny had decided to face his dad, considering what he might have done to piss off his dad. "What the fuck did I do?" Kenny groused to himself, "Shit, maybe he saw half his magazines are gone. What if he found out about those fireworks and Mackey's car? Fuck, maybe he saw some of his beer's gone." Okay, so in the case of Kenny McCormick it might have been a case more of what had been discovered than if anything had been done.

After thirty seconds that seemed to last an eternity Kenny was standing in front of his dad and he quickly took in all the little details of the situation. His dad was holding a beer, he was slouched back in a kitchen chair, he looked pretty buzzed, but he also had the same seriousness in his gaze that had been in the tone of his voice. All in all, Kenny didn't have a fucking clue.

Stuart didn't say anything at first, he simply pushed himself against the chair into a more upright position at the sight of his nearly grown son and stared at him. Then he raised the can in hand and took a sip, the loud noise cutting through the relative silence. Since his dad didn't seem interested in beginning the conversation Kenny decided to.

"What do you want Dad?" the irritation and boredom evident in his voice, Kenny clearly wanted to get this over and done with so he could go back to what he was doing before. He did have wonderfully trashy and naked ladies waiting for him on his bed after all.

Stuart stared at him for a moment longer before gesturing to the empty chair opposite his own.

"Sit down son," he said with vague authority, "we need to have a serious talk. And take off that goddamn hood, I can't understand a goddamn word you say when you've got that thing on."

Kenny pulled down his hood as he practically let himself fall into the cheap kitchen chair at his side. He raised a hand to try to tame the shaggy blond hair that was currently suffering from the effects of being pressed under his hood as he waited for his dad to continue. Stuart McCormick watched his son rather impassively and opened his mouth again.

"Now Kenny, we gotta talk about something important,"

"Stuart, what're you yelling at my little angel for? Kenny doesn't need you bothering him," his mom had entered the kitchen, her thick accent cutting into her husband's words.

"Dammit woman, I'm not yelling at him," Stuart's brows furrowed in frustration, "This is a man to man talk, you mind your own business. Come on Kenny."

With that Kenny was dragged outside by his father, hearing his mom once again before the front door closed.

"Alright, but you better not be yelling at my baby, Stuart," the thick trashy accent of his mom didn't conceal the warning in those words.

Well, at least if he was going to get chewed out now he knew his dad was in for similar treatment later.

Stuart dragged his son around to the back of the house toward the makeshift icebox that rested a few feet from the house. Really it was just an old tin milk box that held some of Stuart's beers and the occasional piece of frozen game in winter, but it was still called "the icebox" by his white trash family. Stuart opened up the box and grabbed a replacement beer, having abandoned his previous one on the kitchen table.

"Now Kenny," he said as he whipped out a keychain bottle opener from his pocket, "This is a real important talk we gotta have. You're getting older now and we gotta tell you things, man to man."

Stuart popped the metal cap off the beer bottle and handed it to a surprised Kenny before fishing another beer out of the metal box and repeating the process, bringing the open beer to his mouth and drinking a hearty swig of it. Kenny continued to stare at the beer for a moment, its presence in his own hand threw him for a loop. First of all, his dad never shared his precious, precious beer. Secondly, he was pretty damn sure he wasn't going to get yelled at now, but he also couldn't imagine why his dad was sharing a beer with his son for the first time.

"Take a drink," Stuart encouraged as he slapped a rough hand on Kenny's back, "it's a father-son thing. And I need a drink if we're gonna talk."

Kenny raised the bottle to his lips and sipped. He was definitely not shocked and awed at the beer, this wasn't his first or anywhere near it. He was, however, genuinely curious about his dad's generosity of said beer; his dad's need for a drink though, well, Stuart McCormick usually seemed to think he needed one. Kenny waited in silence as his dad continued to drink his beer, trying to be patient as he sipped and held his breath for the oncoming conversation.

They stood in silence like that for some time, Kenny sipping his beer and his dad nearly chugging his own. As time wore on and his dad's beer accumulation had grown to two empties on the ground and a third in his hand Kenny's patience was growing very thin. He was almost to the bottom of the beer bottle, he was supposed to meet his friends soon, and he still didn't know why the fuck he was out here. Just when he was about to open his mouth and issue his complaint his dad beat him to it.

"So," his dad began, words slightly affected by the alcohol.

"So," Kenny repeated. God this was getting fucking annoying.

"You know your friend? That Broflovski kid?"

Kenny stared at his dad suspiciously; that wasn't something he'd expected.

"Yeah," he said warily and with an eyebrow raised, "Why?"

"You're gonna do him."

Kenny blinked and took a minute to process this new information; having done so he proceeded to respond in a calm and collected manner.

"What the fuck! What the fuck are you talking about?"

Unfortunately for Kenny his dad seemed much more interested in beer and its side effects than in continuing the conversation he'd been having with his son. He was just finishing off his, at least, fourth beer within the hour and he was rocking on his feet slightly, his eyes glossy with intoxication.

Oh God fucking dammit. Of course his father would get drunk now, just now when things made the least possible fucking sense. Kenny was glowering at his father, who remained oblivious to his son's anger.

"Dad? Dad!" Kenny shook his father's beer holding arm with some force.

"Goddammit, what is it Kenny? You almost made me spill me beer!"

It took just about all of Kenny's willpower not to physically assault his dad. Of course, this was largely due to the fact that Kenny knew for certain that if he punched his dad he would find himself on his ass when his dad returned the favor. Otherwise he would've socked his dad in the jaw ten minutes ago.

"What were you saying about Kyle?" the question came through gritted teeth so that it almost mimicked the effects of his hood.

"Huh? What was I saying about Kyle?" Stuart's eyes looked even glassier as he looked, well tried to look, at his son's face, his head doing a drunk bobblehead impression.

"You said I was going to do him."

"What? Oh yeah, you're going to do him."

"Fucking why am I going to do him?" Kenny's patience was, incidentally, just as short as Kyle's right now.

"Oh, uh. Curse. Broflovski's can't resist us, cause we're charmers." The word "charmers" was accompanied by a large beer belch. Kenny prayed that his charm was better than his dad's was.

"Yup, we always get 'em. You're gonna get Kyle. It's McCormick tradition. Oh, yeah. Be safe or something."

Stuart McCormick turned and with some feat of drunken skill managed to take the beer bottle out of Kenny's hand and thrust a square foil package without losing grip on his own beer. Stuart took the last few gulps of Kenny's beer and dropped the empty bottle on the ground. With his own beer still in his hand he turned back toward the house, stumbling a little as he did so.

"I'm beat I'm gonna sit down…or lie down. Congrats Ken, you're gonna be a McCormick." Stuart gave his middle child a passing pat on the back as he headed inside.

Kenny stood there after he heard the door close, pausing for a moment before opening his fist and taking a cursory glance at the object within.

Yup. It was a condom alright.

Kenny took a minute to let his somewhat productive conversation with his dad sink in. Kyle definitely hadn't been on his 'to-do' list, but now that he thought about it it wasn't an unappealing idea. Kyle blushing at him in embarrassment or anger, Kyle flushed under Kenny's ministrations, Kyle moaning and begging and writhing under him. He had to admit that sounded pretty good. Pretty fucking awesome actually. Kenny snickered to himself and clutched the little square of foil in his hand with a level of confidence and self-assurance only he could pull off.

If Kyle had been there he probably would've had a heart attack at the look plastered on Kenny's face. It was a look that reeked of evil and doom, chaos and destruction. It was a look that said, "Kyle is mine"; more importantly it was a look that said, "Kyle's virginity and ass are mine and I will own them if it's the last fucking thing I do, or the last fucking person I do." Kenny had yet to begin his conquest, but he was already feeling victorious, this battle would be won.

Speaking of winning this battle he was actually supposed to be meeting his redheaded friend soon, albeit with his other two best friends, but still. With a twinkle, which actually look more like a lustful demonic gleam, in his eye he headed out toward Stark's Pond. Other friends or not he was feeling pretty fucking eager to set the stage for the deflowering of Kyle Broflovski.

It was then that he saw his conquest-to-be walking in his direction, apparently lost in thought. Kenny shoved one hand into a pocket and clutched this little piece of foil in his other hand as though it were a talisman against frigid Kyles.

"Hey Kyle," he greeted smoothly, smugly.

"H-hey Kenny," came the stuttered reply. Damn, Kenny felt like he'd already won this.

"Dude, are we still meeting Stan and Cartman at Stark's?"

Relief seemed to wash over Kyle's face for a moment, but then he was looking at Kenny with horror and abject fear. Or rather, Kyle was looking at Kenny's unpocketed hand with horror and abject fear. He almost laughed as he watched the blood completely drain from Kyle's face. Kyle quickly spun on his heel and walk-ran away from Kenny, his hurried pace both comical and all the more enticing to human horn-dog Kenny McCormick.

Kenny chuckled and smirked to himself, picking up his pace to catch up with the terrified Jew. Really, there was no reason that Kyle should be that afraid of Kenny at this stage in the game. Okay, there was, but there was no fucking way in hell Kenny was going to let Kyle slip away because of one measly, unimportant factor like sheer terror.

He caught up to his friend and slung an arm around the other boy's shoulders, drawing him in a little closer than he would normally. Kenny grinned rather slyly and smugly as he saw the warm blush grow on Kyle's face at the close contact and the way he could feel the other teen fidget and squirm against him. Now if only he could translate those expression to a different locale, like his bedroom for instance.

Kenny pressed their faces close together and reveled in their proximity to one another. His voice dropped as husky and sexy as he could make it and in the most charming manner he could think of uttered the first words of seduction to his unlikely object of desire.

"So, Kyle…"

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><p><strong>Okay, one more little chapter coming up, definetely soon. Hope you enjoyed and please review! Thanks for reading!<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Woo, last chapter for this fic! But...not really, cause I actually thought of basically the whole seducing Kyle thing and got ideas, so there will be a, much longer, sequel to this story. I just kinda wanted to end this story here in part cause it tends to follow the fathers more and the sequel will focus much more on K2 stuff, but will hopefully still be funny. And yeah, I was planning on getting this out sooner, but you know, usual reasons: school, work, life...especially end of year school crap...got in the way. So I finished writing my last essay and then wrote this, instead of studying for my final :-p This was more fun.**

**Anyways, I hope you enjoy, I hope you review, I hope you read the sequel (chap 1 should be up definetely by the end of the week), and I hope this doesn't suck cause I'm writing it on 2.5hrs of sleep and it's the end of the day for me.**

**I don't own these characters, or South Park, or anything. **

**EDIT: Ack! Sorry, I just realized that in my half-awake state while posting this before I forgot to thank everyone for the reviews they gave me! They're seriously appreciated and I 3 all you guys who read my story and sent them my way. You guys are extremely awesome for reviewing as it helps me out and lets me know how good/bad I'm doing :) Thanks again!**

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><p>It had been two weeks. Two weeks of a blushing Kyle, a blanching Kyle, a muttering Kyle, a pissed off Kyle, and now an avoiding Kyle and Stan still had no idea what the hell was going on.<p>

Oh sure, he had seen something suspicious going on. It was definitely something between Kyle and Kenny, even the perpetually oblivious Stan could tell that something was amiss between his two best friends, but he just couldn't put his finger on what it was. Of course, had it been any other person they probably would have noticed the rampant sexual advances that Kenny was throwing the way of his redheaded friend, but this was Stan and, much to the chagrin of his friends and girlfriend, Stan did not notice such things.

Then again Kenny McCormick was also known for throwing sexual advances at a lot of people. Those people just tended to also have boobs.

But Stan, remaining blissfully in the dark about Kenny's intentions, had gone from being concerned about his super best friend's odd behavior, to rolling his eyes, and now to bitching and whining until he finally got Kyle to hang out with them again. It had taken almost a week, but Stan had finally convinced his friend to leave the apparent safety of his own room and venture over to Stan's house. Even though this feat had only been accomplished after Stan had sworn on "his life, Jesus, Moses, and the sanctity of their friendship" that it would be just him and Stan hanging out that particular day Stan still felt pretty damn pumped at the apparent victory.

Although when Kyle actually reached his house twenty minutes later he was beginning to regret indulging his best friend's sudden social awkwardness.

When Stan opened the door Kyle looked past Stan's smile and glanced around what he could see of the house from his position outside, eyes wide and a little suspicious. A smile turned into a frown when Stan realized he was being completely ignored by his guest.

"Jesus dude, I'm not fucking Cartman. I didn't lay out booby traps or something," he said with a dramatic roll of his eyes.

That got Kyle's attention. His eyes were now focused on Stan, frowning right back at him.

"Shut up, asshole," was all that he muttered as he stepped gingerly over the threshold of Stan's doorway and tried to act calm.

There was a few moments of silence between the two as they climbed the stairs to Stan's room, falling into the comfortable routine of trying to destroy one another in completely gory and utterly competitive video games. Just when their previous irritation had been forgotten, however, Stan decided it was time to revisit the unspoken subject and he did with all of the tact and poise that he usually possessed.

"Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you lately?"

Kyle scowled at the screen of the paused game, looking at the frozen zombie on the screen like it was a proxy of his questioning and irritating friend. Kyle had realized long ago that the only downside to having a friend who knew you so well was that you had a friend who knew you _so_ well. There was no white lie that could be told, no respect for personal boundaries physical or otherwise, no unearned apologies, and none of the social niceties that would have called for Stan to leave that arena of discussion alone. But, since Stan was being a dick, it meant he could be a dick right back.

"Nothing, Jesus," Kyle said with a roll of his eyes, "I'm not Wendy, Stan. I don't wanna talk about 'my feelings' with you."

"You could've fooled me, you've been acting enough like a fucking pussy lately," came the combative reply.

Stan watched as the red began to creep up in Kyle's neck and face, the physical effects of his hair-trigger temper showing clear as day.

"Me! You're the one who's been bitching and moaning for me to hang out all week," Kyle's reply came out just under yelling level, but riling Kyle to this level wasn't too hard so Stan wasn't overly concerned about his friend's actual anger.

"Fine, whatever. Look, just stop being such a weirdo and hang out with us again."

Kyle seemed to deflate a little at the sincerity in Stan's voice. He could hear the words hidden in Stan's sentence, the ones that remained unsaid about how much Stan had missed his super best friend; it was one of the benefits the reminded him why they were so close. He looked at Stan with calmer eyes and gave him a smile that bordered on a smirk.

"Fine," he paused, "Asshole," his own subliminal apology and pardoning of Stan.

They just smiled their little super best friends' smile at one another, any argument forgiven and forgotten. And with that they moved onto more important matters, like the strange noise that was emanating from Stan's bottomless pit of a stomach.

"Urg, need food," Stan griped as he held his hands over his gut, "coming with?"

Kyle was shaking his head as he followed Stan out of his room.

"Dude, weren't you eating when you called me?"

"Yeah, but that was so long ago," Stan said with a whine.

"It was less than two hours ago," was Kyle's playfully sardonic reply. "Seriously dude, how can you eat so fucking much? You're gonna end up being like the fatass."

"Aye! Don't call me fat," Stan said in his best 'Cartman' voice. "Besides, it's not my fault I'm not a freaking anorexic twig like you. I have actual muscles to feed."

"Fuck you," Kyle said as he gave Stan a little shove.

Both young men had dissolved into laughter and light roughhousing in the short time they made it down the stairs. By the time they had reached the kitchen they were shoving each other out of the way as both tried to get through the doorway first. They fell into a relaxed silence as they raided the Marsh's cabinets and fridge in search of foodstuffs, everything normal and comfortable for the first time in a few weeks. It was in this state that Randy Marsh found them as he wandered in the kitchen, holding a coffee mug out in front of him and looking rather focused.

"Oh Stan, there you are," Randy stated as his eyes alighted on the body partially hidden by an open cabinet door. "Oh, hello Kyle," Randy greeted upon noticing the lanky teen scouring his fridge.

"Hi Mr. Marsh," was Kyle's polite chirp of a reply as he extracted himself from the bowels of the Marsh's fridge and stood upright.

"Hey Dad," Stan drawled lazily as he poked his head out from behind the cabinet door. "You need something?"

Randy suddenly seemed a little less comfortable in the kitchen and he shifted his weight a little, both boys looked between each other, a little more alert as Stan closed the cabinet in order to properly look at his father.

And then Randy gave a furtive little sideways glance at the redheaded bemused teen in his kitchen before answering his son.

And Kyle suddenly felt a familiar feeling of terror as the bottom of his stomach seemed to give way.

Then Randy strode closed some of the distance between him and his son and let his free hand rest heavily on Stan's shoulder.

"Son, I need to talk to you about something."

And then Kyle felt all the blood drain from his face.

And then Kyle let out a noise between a scream and a yelp.

And then Kyle made a beeline for Stan's front door, practically running out the door into the crisp evening air.

Which left two very confused Marshs standing in the kitchen, both looking in the direction that the panic-stricken Jew had taken off in.

"O…kay," was all that Randy said before he turned back to his son.

Stan's attention snapped away from the spot Kyle had last been and let the brows furrowed in epic confusion to relax. He was going to have to go over that whole "What the fuck is wrong with you?" thing with Kyle again. He was pretty sure he had heard something along the lines of "No, not again!" as his best friend practically flew out the door.

"Stan," and Stan looked back at his father.

"Yeah Dad?"

"Now Stan, this is very serious." Randy looked into his son's eyes to convey the importance of the conversation and gripped Stan's shoulder a little. "Have you seen my car keys? Your mother hid them from me after I had a little to drink last night and lost my pants." He rolled his eyes to emphasize how much he thought his wife was blowing this out of proportion.

Stan just pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"Goddammit Dad."

* * *

><p><strong>Sweet, now onto the seqeul with much more attempted Kyle molesting...much, much more. Sorry, lack of sleep makes me lame. Hope you review, hope you enjoyed!<strong>


	4. Addendum

**Addendum:**

Hey guys, I wouldn't normally do this, but I noticed that several people put a "story alert" to _Father Knows Best_ on chapter 3 and, since it's the end of the story, that won't do much. The 1st chapter of the sequel is out and the name is **_But Sons Do It Better_**. (Yeah, cheesy title I know, I tried brainstorming at 3 a.m.) Just to let anyone who's reading this know the tone of the sequel will be a little different from _Father Knows Best_. It'll have some more drama, but I'm trying to keep the humor in there. The change is mostly due to the fact that I personally lack the skill to write in the same almost entirely humorous tone for a several chapter fic and have it turn out well, I felt like if I tried the story would end up being pretty bad.

So anyways, assuming you still want to read it, go check out the new story! And as always I love feedback! Thank you so much for reading and enjoying this story and I hope you enjoy the sequel! Love you all 3


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